Well had his eyes glued at the car’s tinted window, every ounce of his attention focused on the speeding vehicles driving past them. Inside his mind, a mini pendulum clock was working. Down to the last few minutes, he warned to himself after seeing that they were about to drive through the last slope of the wide and almost empty highway. “Hold your horses, my Junior. We’re only kilometers away!” Gerard, his dad who had always called him ‘my Junior,’ said with a curving lips on his face. His sweaty palm hugged tightly on the steering wheel, allowing their car’s movement speed to accelerate up to 90 kilometers per hour. “I can’t believe our baby boy’s leaving us.” Karina Smith sniffed, starting another episode of her Please-Don’t-Break-My-Heart drama, while trying her best not to burst out her emotion juice. As a small family of three, and as a family ruled by democracy, she had no choice but to follow the decision of his two boys. Well going to West Berg—she never wanted it. She had
It happened so fast. The next thing Well had known was he's staring at his apartment's window pane, looking down at the parking lot outside the building searching for two great parents who he wished had never left. Cars of all types and colors were bugging the highways, like a colony of ants walking to and from their beloved anthill. It was a complete mess in the eyes of the boy. But despite the topsy-turviness happening under the sun, he was still able to spot the two apples of his eye-his Mom and Dad. He opened the door for her. She went in to sit. He smiled. She smiled. He held her hand. She blushed. He closed the door. She fastened her seat belt. He went to the driver's seat. She followed him with her eyes. Well was supposed to be there inside the car, with them, feeling the love in the air. But he missed this time. By the looks of it, the way the scene happened inside the car didn't really much answered the question if whether or not they will be longing for Well. They will, o
"The interesting part of living alone in an apartment is realizing that you are nothing but just a pebble aging in an endless and baleful river." Joross sighed out of the blue. It's almost two in the afternoon and the hallway on the second floor began to welcome its new guests and tenants. Indistinct chattering reverberated in the place, following the discordant footsteps of the two young guys walking their way to the neighborhood. "You sound so much like my Dad," Well shot back, his tone was almost dead that it's hard to determine if what he said was a compliment or an insult. "I always think that living alone is a good thing. I just don't know if I'm explaining it right, but it makes you determine how far could you go as a person. I mean, as an independent person." "Yeah, I totally agree with you. But..." Joross paused for a while when they reached the front door of Room 016. "Not in a place like this." He took out his apartment's key from his grey underwear and unlocked the door
“I wonder if you could ever make any friends when you’re there. I’m worried.” JH said, throwing pebbles one by one to the calm and placid ocean. The sun was setting down, and so everything that could be seen by the eyes were only orange and pink. The villagers were beginning to gather off the coast, for any moment by now, their fishing vessels would arrive with a huge amount of catch. Everyone was busy; some were preparing the nets, some were readying the basins, and some were working on their fishing boats to sail when the vessels arrive. But despite all the back-and-forths of the Coast Ville people, in the very corner of the sea wall, not so far away from the Smith’s Coffee Shop on the port, the two best friends JH and Well found themselves sitting on the fine and cold sands of the shore. It wasn’t their typical bond. It wasn’t their usual moment. But given the fact that Well will be leaving the next day, the two friends had no choice but to spend the remaining hours in whatever w
“Your—your boyfriend?” Sitting on the mattress where a bloody blanket was being laid, Joross replied in his trembling tone. “Uhm, yes. My boyfriend.” With his jaw jutting out into an underbite, he shot his gaze past Well to avoid seeing his eyes. It was a total awkwardness, the two could feel it. “Whatever it is that you’re thinking, it’s all true. You don’t really have to keep your words, though. You can say them if you want, I’m used to everyone saying the same thing anyways.” The dropping of Joross’ shoulders went in-sync with the shrinking of his lips. Well waved his hands rapidly before him. “No, not that I’m judging you. I’m just, you know, a little bit shocked.” He then withdrew them back. “We’re not the typical type of gay couple, for your information. We are unique. And I hate it. Only if we were not, he might have stayed alive today.” “I am so, so sorry for your loss. I really mean it!" Well sighed. He wanted to comfort his new friend, but he was a socially awkward pers
Both Well and Joross couldn't believe what they just saw. A tongue? In a pouch? Tied with a white ribbon? Who in the world would dare to do something as gross as that?Well carefully placed the pouch down on the bed. Their faces were crumpled like wet paper; foreheads were creased at the center. The room became so silent that the thumping of their hearts could be heard from across the room. None of them thought of saying a word. None of them thought of moving a nerve. Only an exchange of stares took place between the two trembling guys; one was crying due to fear, while the other was grieving due to a sudden realization."That... That thing. There's no way it belongs to him, right?" Well asked. He swallowed every after of each of his words. He couldn't believe what he saw as much as Joross couldn't believe what he just realized.The sobbing boyfriend closed his eyes and squeezed them intensely, forcing the dwelling tears on the corners of his eyelids to drip down. "I— I don't know. I
Yes. The cops. Although they were treated by the many as bearers of justice and beacons of light, they were actually only as crooked as the suspects they were after for the entire time. The modest of the elites would think that the cops of New Bill would have been the greatest security personnel to ever exist. The close-to-perfect government would have thought of the same thing as well. But as for those people who surrendered their innocence in the face of atrocities, all of those godly behaviours showcased by all of those godly cops were only up for a show. CROOKS. When anyone from the fine line of poverty was asked how they would describe the national police of New Bill, that was always their answer. It never changed. It was always the 'Crook,' and often the 'Crooked.'"Would you mind if I ask for an elaboration of why you believe cops are the last person we should ask help from during situations like this?" Well asked. At this very moment, he was now at the edge of the bed. His as
Well couldn't help but think of the last statement that Joross had said. "Things are different here in New Bill. You need a lot of friends. And once you start your day at West Burge, you'll understand why." The way it sounded to Well, it seemed like it was some kind of a warning. Or a threat. Or anything that would really cause his heart beat to skyrocket. "All right, I will try my best. But I will tell you in advance, I am really not good at making friends," Well told Joross as they started to cross the pedestrian lane just in front of The Mansion building. "I don't even know how to initiate the first move," he added by the time they reached the other end of the road. "It doesn't really matter. You don't have to make the first move. Actually, you don't even need to say anything first in order to be discovered. You just have to be yourself, smile when other people smile at you, and then there you have it. The upclass are friendly people. More often than not, they are usually the fir